


The Dangling Conversation

by HYPERFocused



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-28
Updated: 2005-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused





	The Dangling Conversation

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:**|   
artistic  
---|---  
**Current music:**| The View  
**Entry tags:**|   
[challenge repost](http://hyperfocused.livejournal.com/tag/challenge%20repost), [fic](http://hyperfocused.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [sga](http://hyperfocused.livejournal.com/tag/sga)  
  
  
_**Fic: The Dangling Conversation (SGA McKay/Sheppard)**_

Title: The Dangling Conversation  
Author: HYPERFocused  
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis  
Pairing: Sheppard/ McKay  
Rating: PG  
A/N: My first dip in this particular pool. Written for SGA_Flashfiction, but reposting here now that it's allowed.

They were sitting at the observation table, reluctant volunteers for yet another "Make Nice With the Natives" session. The view was amazing, almost fathomless. John hoped it was a trick of the lighting, and not as vast as it looked.

"It's called 'The Bar of Honesty'", Priestess n'M'Kandra informed them, pointing upward to a long metal bar, connected by chains to a ceiling so high above them it was hard to see.

"And this," she indicated far below, is 'The Pit of Truth.'" John could see a shifting mass of browns and grays and beiges, coalescing like the beginnings of a desert storm, It reminded him of those colored sand in plastic toys, the ones that were really only fun when you were stoned, and it had been a hell of a long time since that had happened.

"And we're supposed to - hang - from _that_?" Rodney asked, his look of distaste so clearly familiar to John that it was oddly reassuring. If Rodney McKay was complaining, then all was right with the world.

"Yes, to be suspended from the Bar is to be released from your impurities. If that isn't sufficient, then immersion in the pit below will remove the rest. It is quite refreshing."

"There's no chance we can skip it, is there?" Rodney had to ask.

She looked at them sternly. "It is only through facing one's fears in the spirit of partnership and openness that one can truly prove worth. Don't worry; it is perfectly safe if you follow the rules. Any ill effects will be temporary."

Somehow, that didn't seem to make Rodney feel any better. "Sounds like a bad Star Trek episode," he muttered under his breath. John kicked him under the table, but had to admit he was right. Of course Rodney would be well versed in all things Star Trek. The guy probably had Spock ears. Hell, John wouldn't be surprised if Rodney'd built himself a working communicator when he was ten.

John was nothing like that. Not geeky at all. It was best not to mention the fact that his parents' attic was probably still full of his old NASA scale models, and nobody had to know about the talking Dalek. He shook away the stray thoughts as the priestess detailed the cleansing process.

"Sounds kind of like a spa, or one of those retreat type places," John said.

Rodney shrugged. "Yeah, without the relaxing massage. Let's get this over with, then."

* * *

 

Really, it wasn't that bad, Rodney tried to convince himself, glancing over at Major Sheppard, who seemed perfectly at ease. He was almost convinced the priestess had been telling the truth when she said they were perfectly safe. It beat death by asphyxiation in deep space, giant bugs, and soul sucking goth vampires. No, this was positively pleasant in comparison. True, he could wish for more clothes (the shiny gold shorts probably weren't the best look for him, though he had to admit they somehow worked for John. Of course, everything worked for John, and Rodney was sure he knew it.) And he could definitely wish for less of an audience. The dozens of rapt faces watching their "new friends" as they slowly spun above the pit (the rotation wasn't something the Priestess had bothered to mention), were just an added stress.

"So how long have you been hanging around here?" John tried to joke. Rodney just glared at him.

"No, seriously. How long has it been?"

"Do I look like I'm wearing a watch? It feels like hours, but it probably hasn't been that long."

"Yeah, it does. But you're right."

"Nothing new there."

They spent the next rotation playing twenty questions, Rodney guessing John's "Red Baron" in an impressive three turns. "That's what comes from picking something that's both a famous pilot and a pizza. It was an obvious choice, Major."

"Considering we're both in our underwear, I think we can dispense with the titles."

"I don't know about you, John," Rodney said pointedly, "but my underwear doesn't _shimmer."_

"Too bad, it's a good look for you." John blurted, then looked surprised he'd said it out loud.

"And you. You look quite - athletic." Actually, with the heat of the chamber bringing a flush to John's skin, and perspiration from the exertion of gripping the spinning bar, John looked hot. Before Rodney could stop himself, he said it aloud.

"Thanks, Rodney. It's good to know you care." Rodney wasn't sure if he meant it or not. John didn't do sarcasm well. It sounded too much like earnestness.

"You know what this all reminds me of?" John started.

"I couldn't begin to guess."

"The President's Physical Fitness test. You know, from grade school."

"The President made school children hang over a pit in their underwear? Makes me glad I'm Canadian."

This time, it was John giving the dirty look. "No, of course not. It was a standardized gym class thing. How long you could hang from a bar, how many pull ups you could do. Didn't you go to gym class?"

"When I couldn't avoid it."

"Well, you can run fast enough when someone's chasing you, so I guess that's all right."

"I'd like to have fewer opportunities to practice that, frankly."

"Me too. I don't like watching you get hurt, you know."

They were quiet awhile, and Rodney closed his eyes. The "Bar of Honesty" was starting to make him dizzy, and he didn't want to embarrass himself by upchucking into the "Pit of Truth." Falling to his death would be embarrassing too, but at least he wouldn't be around to know about it.

"Do you know what it reminds _me_ of? Well, what _ you_ remind me of?"

"No, what?" John's voice was soft. Oddly intimate, despite their arena-like surroundings.

"Rocky."

"Yo, Adrian? I'm sorry, I don't see a connection."

"No, Rocky Horror. You know, 'The Sword of Damocles is hanging over our head.'"

'That ain't no crime." John really shouldn't sing.

"Well, it will be if we fall to our deaths."

"We won't. I won't let you." John said, convincingly. "Hey, I didn't know you did Rocky."

"I didn't spend _ all_ my time at college in the lab. I'll have you know I made a hell of a Dr. Scott. You should see me in fishnet tights."

"I'd really like that," John said fervently.

"Well, fine. But only if you wear the Merry Widow."

"Damn, Rodney. I had no idea you were so kinky."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Major. I contain multitudes."

"I'm beginning to see that. "

John inched closer to Rodney, linking their hands together over the metal bar. The audience was forgotten, and the last of Rodney's fear was gone. He was dizzy now, not from their bodies spinning like a carnival ride, but from possibility.

"You know, I think we're going about this all wrong," Rodney said. It was their sixth rotation, and he was finally figuring things out.

"What do you mean? What else is there to do?"

"I think we're supposed to let go. Sometimes that's what trust means."

* * *

John never knew Rodney could be braver than he was, but it was Rodney's hands that loosened their grip first. He pushed off like a diver, pulling John along with him.

The landing was soft, the way he knew it would be.


End file.
